


handcuffs

by lilsteverogers (harryandhis17black)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Ending, Bottom Natasha Romanov, Cunnilingus, Dom Natasha, F/M, Handcuffs, I'm Bad At Titles, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Natasha Needs a Hug, Natasha-centric, POV Third Person Omniscient, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teasing, Top Clint Barton, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but like, clint's a fucking tease, desperate natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryandhis17black/pseuds/lilsteverogers
Summary: don't judge the shitty title-----They don't mention why she doesn't like the feeling of the hard metal against her skin.-----Normally, Clint wouldn't be so serious with sex. He likes to have fun and enjoy it. But, he also hasn't had Natasha come to him and ask him to use handcuffs on her. When they had first discussed the more intimate aspects of their relationship, of course, bondage and tying up had come up. (Clint may have a slight kink for it.) She had been firm with saying nothing around her wrist. Clint had agreed and added it to her ‘hard limits’ list.So, rightfully, when Natasha came to him with a pair of shiny, new handcuffs and the key on a necklace, he had been skeptical. Thinking back to it, he can't remember a time when she's looked so vulnerable as she had in that moment. It was a big step for her and her hands were trembling just slightly as she handed over the box containing the cuffs and key. He had scooped her up in his arms (much to her dismay) and held her for an hour. They hadn't said a word, but they didn't need to. 

---





	handcuffs

He holds them tightly in his grasp, watching her reaction. As usual, she's stone-faced. But, to the untrained eye, she would appear to be unfazed by the metal in his hands. But Clint’s eyes are not untrained - they are arguably his strongest weapon. And Clint knows. He can see it in the way she swallows a bit harder than usual and how her eyes flick quickly from the object to his face. He stays wordless, watching her. She nearly shifts from her kneeled position but he's given her an order (“Do not move or you will be punished”) and she doesn't often disobey his commands.<> He almost lets them drop to the floor but he only changes their position in his hand, letting them swing a bit on two fingers.

“I would never do what they did to you, Natasha.”

She swallows again, the only clue as to her discomfort with the situation.

“I know.”

Her voice trembles only slightly and Clint almost isn't sure he heard correctly. (He almost reaches up to adjust his hearing aid before realizing that Tony's invention no doubt wouldn't fail him now.)

“Good. Then I'd like your permission to use them on you.”

Normally, Clint wouldn't be so serious with sex. He likes to have fun and enjoy it. But, he also hasn't had Natasha come to him and ask him to use handcuffs on her. When they had first discussed the more intimate aspects of their relationship, of course, bondage and tying up had come up. (Clint may have a slight kink for it.) She had been firm with saying nothing around her wrist. Clint had agreed and added it to her ‘hard limits’ list.

So, rightfully, when Natasha came to him with a pair of shiny, new handcuffs and the key on a necklace, he had been skeptical. Thinking back to it, he can't remember a time when she's looked so vulnerable as she had in that moment. It was a big step for her and her hands were trembling just slightly as she handed over the box containing the cuffs and key. He had scooped her up in his arms (much to her dismay) and held her for an hour. They hadn't said a word, but they didn't need to.

And, now, after much discussion and negotiation on the topic, she was kneeling in front of him, naked and quiet. He was in a similar state, albeit clad in a pair of tight black briefs. He knelt down on a knee, looking at her seriously.

“What is your safeword, Nat?”

“кра́сный.” He nearly gives her a look.

“In English.”

“Red.”

“Very good.”

He reaches up slowly and runs a hand through her hair. It's soft and smooth, not a strand out of place despite her intense marking with Steve earlier in the day. He feels her relax as his hand slides down to the back of her neck. It's his sign of possession and he gives her a soft squeeze.

“Clint?”

“Yes, my love?”

“What if I try to attack you?”

He's startled by the question but tries to not let it show. She clearly has seen his expression, though, as her eyes flicker downward briefly. The topic isn't something they've talked about, surprisingly, despite Clint’s careful planning to ensure everything was prepared. He chooses his words carefully as he speaks.

“I don't believe you will. I have trust in you, Natasha. And you have your safeword if everything becomes too overwhelming.”

“But, what if it just happens? My legs aren't tied down, I could still hurt you.”

He can't help but chuckle and her look goes angry for a second before disappearing.

“Nat, babe, I would be honored if you killed me with your thighs.” His cool hands run over the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and goosebumps rise on her skin. She cracks a bit of a smile and Clint suddenly feels like he could take down an army with just a single arrow. Her smile is the best thing in Clint’s world and it always makes him feel better.

“Besides, JARVIS is always available.” The AI replies in confirmation and Clint gives a slight smile.

“Are you ready now, baby girl?” She gives a single nod of her head and he rises to his feet, moving to the bed. She follows without command, lying down flat on her back. His fingers run along her arm and take her dainty wrist in his larger hand. He brings it to his lips, kissing the inner part. Even her wrists shows stories that he can't imagine. “Ты такая красивая.”

•••••

Natasha’s heart is beating steadily in her chest. Her gaze never leaves Clint’s, watching the way he reacts to her as well as his actions. She barely registers that he's spoken to her in Russian. It's not pronounced exactly correct but it's clear what he's said.

“I'm not that beautiful.” And she's quiet, silently cursing herself for being so vulnerable despite knowing that this is Clint. He loves her thoroughly. He doesn't respond verbally, just continues to press kisses to her wrists. She watches the way his lips purse together to push against her skin in a loving fashion. He's slow and deliberate and has her clit tingling even with simple gestures.

“I'm going to put the first one on now.”

He reaches for the metal cuff, unclasps one side, before attaching it around her wrist, ensuring it's not tight enough to cut off circulation. Her heart leaps in her chest and she stares at the handcuff. They're not nearly as heavy as she seems to remember the Red Room cuffs were but she tries not to dwell on that fact. “Are you okay?”

She hates how genuinely concerned he sounds, how he looks like he would rip the heads off of anyone that tries to force the cuffs on her.

“I'm fine, Clint.” Fine might not be exactly the word she's thinking considering how fast her heart is beating and how she feels the hair on the back of her neck tingle and stand on end. But, she has to remind herself, that this is Clint, and he worries about her. It's not a feeling she's used to, having someone care so deeply about her, her safety, and her wellbeing.

“Good. Lift your arms up, I'm attaching the other one.” She raises her hands above her head and he threads the other cuff through a vertical slat in the headboard. He's leaning over her, most of his weight on the lower half of her body as he clasps the other cuff around her other wrist. He sits back on his hind legs and observes her, one hand on her thigh to remind her he was still there.

She tugs at them almost reflexively, testing their strength. Of course, they're not going to break. She bought only the highest quality handcuffs she could, and honestly, she's more worried about the headboard snapping before the cuffs ever would.

Clint picks up the key. “I'm not going to wear this.” Her eyebrows knit together, dropping some of her guard down as she lets her emotions show. “You are.”

She frowns at him (Are you crazy?). He simply unclasps the necklace, reattaching it behind her neck silently.

“I'm not the one in control tonight, Natasha. You are. You decide when and if we stop, and you decide the pace.” His mouth quirks up in a smile. “I may be on top, but you're the dominant one.” (Who said he can't still have fun with sex?)

She huffs out a laugh, shoulders dropping. A smile graces her lips and tension leaves her body almost in a wave. She can tell Clint looks relieved.

•••••

Clint smiles wider, hands moving to brace himself beside her shoulders as he leans down to kiss her. His teases her to relax her, lips barely brushing hers. She smells of the new peppermint shampoo she got as an early birthday present from Pepper and sex (Clint's favorite combination).

If his hearing hadn't been as stealthy as it was he probably would have missed the slight whimper she gave at the teasing. He smirked, brushing her lips once more before trailing his kisses down her neck and to her collarbones. He loves marking her in small suck and nibble marks. They're hidden by her uniform but he knows they are there and that's the important part.

“Clint,” she breathes, hips rocking on their own accord. He takes pity on her and reaches down between her legs to slip his finger between her folds. But his fingers just barely touch her, skipping over the sensitive bud to tease her core, the tip of his pointer finger tracing the entrance. She clenches up and he tuts.

“Already so desperate, are we?” He eases his finger inside, thumb coming to gently rub against her clit. Her walls are velvety and she clenches around him. His cock hangs neglected between his legs, Clint too focused on making sure Natasha is comfortable.

“Don’t tease,” she grumbled, almost demanding. He leaned down to flick his tongue over her nipples, her back arching towards his mouth. He added another finger and one more once Clint considered her loose enough.

Despite his tenderness earlier, Clint’s cock was beginning to get uncomfortable and he was getting more desperate for Natasha. He slipped his fingers out and got a glare in response. He just gave her a cute smirk and wink, reaching across her for the lube he had put there. He slicked himself up, wiping the rest carelessly on the sheets.

“You ready?”

“Mhm,” came the reply. He glanced up to the top of the bed, quickly checking to make sure the redhead’s wrists looked secure and unchafed. Deeming her comfortable, he reached one hand down to line himself up with her, the other supporting himself on the bed. Natasha moved one of her legs up to wrap around his waist. He pressed the blunt head of his cock to her entrance, stilling. “Clint,” she hissed, rocking her hips.

“Stay still, мой маленький паук,” he purred in her ear, pressing his hips forward, easing just the first few inches inside of her. She let out soft moans, chest rising and falling quickly. Clint’s favorite pastime is working Natasha up until she’s nearly begging for it, watching as some of her tough, Russian-spy resolve starts to melt away.

•••••

If Natasha had access to her hands, she might strangle Clint. She’s desperate to feel him full inside of her, but of course, in typical Clint fashion, he’s being a shit and taking his time. But there’s a part of her that absolutely loves it --- loves the sweet torture as she feels every inch. He smirks above her and she leans up to kiss it away. He eventually gives in to her and eases his way in. She holds him there with her leg, thigh pressed against his flank. He’s murmuring Russian compliments in her ear and they aren’t perfect but Clint it perfect, so it really doesn’t matter.

Her walls clench and unclench around him, encouraging him to move. He nearly pulls out all the way before pushing back in quickly. She lets out a sort of gasp as he does, hands fisting around the headboard bars. “More,” she pleads, hips rocking. He actually listens to her, beginning to thrust deeper and harder. Natasha absently thinks about how Tony didn’t do a very good job designing their bed as it’s squeaking and she’s sure if Clint goes any faster it’s going to break (and she really doesn’t want JARVIS to have to get anyone about that).

He ducks his head to suck and kiss at her neck and her eyelids flutter as he finds her pulsepoint. It has her shuddering and begging in Russian for Clint, strong biceps tugging against the metal cuffs. He shifts his hands up to hers, lacing their fingers together as his hips start to stutter, thrusts getting move uneven.

She knows he’s close and she kisses him roughly, swallowing his moans as he comes, thrusting deeply. He mumbles her name and ‘I love you’s, ducking down to kiss her neck again as he slid out. His kisses moved down her sternum, between her breasts and over her stomach. They stop at the soft mound of red curls, pressing a final kiss to the soft skin there. Clint looked up at her, eyes bright and mischievous.

“Look at you, babe, all spread out for me.” She let out a small huff at him, wanting to run her fingers through his hair, tousled perfectly. He just chuckles, pushing her legs up onto his shoulders. She tenses briefly, thinking of all the ways she could kill him in this position but then he’s glancing at her with a grin. Any and all thoughts escape her as his tongue comes in contact with her clit, licking over the sensitive bud. Her thighs tighten around him, desperate for him to finish her off. His nose is buried in her soft curls and he dives his tongue inside of her. Natasha moans loudly, digging her heel into his back in warning. He resumed his ministrations on her clit and within moments she was coming, coating Clint’s mouth in her sweet juices.

Her thighs quivered and eventually relaxed, sliding off him. He sat up, licking his lips. He grabbed a tissue, wiping his face.

“You ready to take the cuffs off?” She nodded. The necklace had slipped off her chest, the key now resting on the bed beside her neck. She lifted her head as he slipped the necklace off making quick work of the cuffs. It was then that she realized how dead her arms felt. But Clint took immense care to massage them and spent minutes on each arm, working them back to her side. She watched him through half-lidded eyes, letting her guard down. Once she was free and had the feeling back in her arms, Clint got up to get them a wet towel, taking care to wipe her down gently. They were quiet as Natasha liked to take the minutes after sex to calm down. Clint went to return the rag to the bathroom while Natasha managed to pull the sheet around her. Clint joined her, pulling the redhead close.

“How was it?” he asked, pushing a strand of her hair away from her face.

“Really good,” she responded, having to pause halfway through the short sentence in order to yawn. “Can we sleep?”

Clint smiled softly, nodding as she buried her face in his chest.

“I love you so much, Nat.”

“Love you too, Barton.”


End file.
